


Mise en abyme

by Manu



Series: The Luck of Olympus [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Claustrophobia, In a way, M/M, Mainly Nico/OC, Meet-Cute, Not Beta Read, Past Jasico, more like Meet-Angst?, seriously it's rough, unrequited percico
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-18 16:31:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21730480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manu/pseuds/Manu
Summary: Nico finds himself trapped in a very peculiar place. Getting out seems impossible, until he lets someone else in.--A prequel* to the fic The Luck of Olympus.
Relationships: Nico di Angelo & Percy Jackson, Nico di Angelo/Jason Grace, Nico di Angelo/Original Male Character(s)
Series: The Luck of Olympus [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566178
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Mise en abyme

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orchis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchis/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, [orchis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchis)!!!  
> You're the best online-turned-irl friend one could ever hope to have. Thank you so very much for all your support, encouragement and radness through all these years.
> 
> I hope you like this fic. <3
> 
> \----  
> Some housekeeping:  
> *This is a prequel/sidequel/midquel to my other fic [The Luck of Olympus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2121306). It stars Nico and his OC boyfriend from that fic, Alan.  
> The above-mentioned fic was written before Blood of Olympus was released so all that comes with that can also be found in this fic.

Nico was cold and in darkness. He breathed dusty and stale air. He didn’t feel any pain, yet he couldn’t stand up. His movements were restricted by the barriers seemingly all around him. He pushed the one in front of him, but it wouldn’t budge. He felt around for some sort of door or lock or _some way out_ of that small, small, pitch dark space. His breathing became shallow and fast. His body began to sweat and shake. He could feel the bile building up to his throat already and his world began to spin.

Some awareness came back bit by bit; and bit by bit his condition worsened. He felt the walls closing in and the air beginning to run out. He needed to find an exit soon. It was only then that he noticed he hadn’t opened his eyes yet.

He didn’t need to. He knew exactly where he was.

He didn’t _want_ to open them.

_No, no, no, no…_

His fists hit the ice-cold wall in front of him over and over. Nico tried to stand up and hit his head, making his nausea even worse. A brief thought, one that wondered how he’d become trapped in such a small space with no way out crossed his mind, but it was instantly dismissed.

The Labyrinth was funny like that.

Funny…

He had never felt less like laughing than in that moment.

“And that’s saying something, emo boy” an annoying and familiar voice said in his head.

“Shut up, Leo” Nico replied out loud. “I need to think.”

Was this another sadistic “test” by Minos? The Ghost King had saved him just as many times as he’d put him in mortal danger. There was a perverted glee in his eyes every time Nico seemed like he was about to fail one of his tests, and a demented delight when he finally did pass them. A delight that, Nico realized, came from seeing Nico use the sheer force of his anger and grief to power through it all.

He’d told him they were kindred spirits. Both wronged by others and unjustly touched by death. Quite literally on Minos’ case. He was the only person he could trust. They were both deserving of having their revenge. Percy’s face flashed on his mind every time Minos mentioned revenge. This was all about bringing Bianca back, but Minos’ endless talk about revenge… Nico shook his head.

“That’s all well and good, Kill Bill, but it really would help if you opened your eyes.”

“I said shut up, Leo!”

His whole body seized for a second.

Who the fuck was Leo?

He opened his eyes. The wall he’d been touching in front of him vanished or, rather, the _sensation_ of touching it simply disappeared the moment he saw that he was at the end of a stone hallway that extended into infinity.

A sliver of comprehension threatened to enter his mind right when the whole world spun once again—this time for real—and now he was falling, falling, falling into the dark, almost leaving all hint of understanding of the situation behind.

Mere tricks of the Labyrinth, his mind declared while clinging to itself. The moment he stopped being certain of anything would be fatal, something deep inside told him.

Tricks and traps, simply the ancient malevolence of the Labyrinth messing with him. Minos wanting him to know he was the one in charge, the Ghost King, by making him relive his fall into Tartarus.

That can’t be right, a familiar something told him.

 _Am I actually….?_ he replied to it.

Right, it hadn’t happened that way. Happened, past tense.

The Labyrinth was long behind him. Minos was gone; he’d made sure of it. A wave of relief came over him. Twice... He shook his head.

So, he was still falling… falling into the depths of the Underworld, going straight into the very bottom of the pit where untold primordial horrors lived. That hadn’t been the plan, his descent would’ve been slow, controlled, but the irresistible gravity of the abyss pulled and kept pulling him straight in.

How many days had he been falling? The Labyrinth earlier was proof that his mind was already conjuring up memories; old, deeply unpleasant memories that it deemed more bearable than his own thoughts and ideas of what expected him down below.

He was about to enter a state of panic when, thankfully, frustration hit him. A foreign frustration, coming from the same place the Something lived, both deep inside and completely separate from him. Somewhere out there in the vast nothingness.

He’d wanted to help the others to locate and maybe even close the Doors of Death from the inside, but he was already in trouble. It had been naïve of him to believe he could’ve done something right and good for once. Instead, he was falling exactly like Percy and Annabeth had. He was already doing Tartarus’ job himself, getting tortured by his own mistakes.

His head hurt. Wrong order again, kiddo.

They had fallen after him. He’d failed Percy after having failed to close the Doors of Death.

Guess it’s hard to keep your failures in order when there are so many, huh...

Caring reproach came from the Something Somewhere.

The world closed on him again. It happened so fast it left him breathless. His stomach did a somersault. The space got even smaller than before. The now vile taste of pomegranates was making him gag. He closed his eyes again. He was sure he couldn’t handle another change of scenery.

He was as certain as before of where he was and hoped this was not it: The. Stupid. Fucking. Jar. Held prisoner by Otis and Ephialtes, the oafish twin sons of Gaea.

A tap on the jar from outside, taunting him.

So there he was, trapped in the most ridiculous place, awaiting rescue. Percy’s face once again appeared in his mind’s eye. It all always came around to Percy for him…

A more insistent tapping. He replied by punching the inside of the jar, furious and desperate.

_I’m not here. I’m not here. I’m not here…_

Right, then.

He felt as if being pulled off stage by a gigantic cartoon cane and was now flying through the endless black void at dizzying speeds. Probably the two most frightening seconds of his life. If he hadn’t felt like dying before, now the bright light at the end of the dark tunnel coming closer sure did the trick.

He fell ass first on a thankfully soft surface, surely rearranging all of his insides.

“Ow,” Nico said weakly with the little oxygen that hadn’t been sucked out of him. He breathed in deeply and let his eyes adjust to the brightness of the place.

“What…?” he said after having made sure nothing was broken or bent or leaking or worse. He then started inspecting the beach; it was a rather familiar one…

The sun was low on the sky, its light playing with the atmosphere and the clouds, giving off crazy yet soft hues of orange, red, violet and pink. The water was eerily calm, an almost perfect mirror of the above spectacle.

The distant sounds back at Camp Half-Blood were of laughter and of good-byes and see-you-soons. The end of summer.

That one summer.

It wasn’t the spectacular vista that tipped him off, but the boy sitting next to him.

“So, yeah…” Percy said, looking straight ahead.

Nico stared at him. Percy had never looked more handsome than in that moment. His green eyes were almost blazing with some indescribable emotion Nico had never seen in him. Percy had been swimming, allowing the water to actually cling to him for once. That’s what had called Nico’s attention, so he had made his way down to the beach. His tanned skin was still covered with several droplets catching the sunlight, making him practically glow: his strong arms and shoulders were doing quite a number on Nico, his naked chest and defined abdomen were glistening. His hair was a wet, sandy mess. His crooked, mischievous smile was gone but, as usual, always practically threatening to come back. It was as if the last remnants of teenage awkwardness had been washed away of him with that last dip into the sea. Percy Jackson was quite a sight. No one would have blamed Nico for what had happened next.

Plus, he had just told Nico he was leaving Camp. “Leaving me,” he thought immediately and then chastised himself right after.

“It’s only New Rome,” Nico heard himself saying, unable to direct his own actions. He was a prisoner in his own body, a captive of this moment. His voice had the smallest hint of… pleading. It was the most horrible sound he’d ever heard. “Bit melodramatic,” he appended with as much good-natured ribbing as he could muster.

“I know,” Percy said. “Only it feels… so final. Everyone’s leaving.”

“I’m not. Leo’s here. Jason’s here. Frank’s on his way to… praetorhood, you’ll see him all the time,” Nico recounted. “Honestly, it’s really just Annabeth, Percy.” He tried to roll his eyes at him, only managing to look cross-eyed.

Percy sighed.

“You’re barely here…” he said, sounding strange. “Leo’s… busy… I think he’s gonna be busy for a while…” He looked at Nico and then he seemed to have given up offering weak counters. “I don’t know, I’m just… I’m lost, I think.”

Percy exhaled. Nico was a bit stunned.

“Sorry,” Percy said.

“It’s fine,” Nico assured him, putting a hesitant hand on his naked back.

Percy half-smiled. Nico’s heart beat faster and louder.

“You and I never… really talked, did we?” Percy said, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.

“No, we didn’t,” Nico replied, a bit breathless.

“Maybe I’ll... write…”

“No, you won’t.”

Percy laughed.

He began tracing wide lazy circles on Percy’s back. Percy made a small approving sound.

No one would have blamed Nico for what had happened next. No one except himself.

His hand went up from Percy’s back to his neck, and then went on to hold the back of his head. Nico leaned in both slowly and as fast as possible. Percy’s eyes were still closed, his expression dreamy and a bit sad.

Nico kissed him.

He felt Percy’s surprise, and then felt him relaxing a little.

And starting to give in.

And there were fireworks exploding inside Nico.

And he felt Percy kissing back.

And he felt everything was right in the world for once.

And he felt Percy pushing him away in the most gentle, caring and _devastating_ way.

“No. I just… I’m sorry, I… don’t…” he started to say, his warm hands still on Nico’s chest.

Nico said nothing, as if maybe that way Percy would stop noticing him, as if maybe that way everything and everyone else would stop noticing him. As if maybe that way he could start to disappear completely.

“Nico?” Percy said after a little while.

He looked down, trying to escape those green eyes, that hauntingly handsome face. His breathing got faster.

Percy held him by the shoulders now.

“Hey, it’s… it’s fine.”

_It’s not._

“I just don’t think… It’s not…. You’re not… I’m not… Hey, hey…. Nico?”

_Someone please punch this goddamn boy. Someone please come and take me away from this planet forever. Someone please erase this stupid fucking crush, our stupid fucking history, his goddamn stupid fucking heterosexuality._

_Someone please stop this stupid perfect day that’s been completely fucking ruined._

On cue, the sea, the gentle wind, the voices of campers and every other imaginable sound ceased. Nico’s breathing and heartbeat were the only sounds left in the universe.

Until Percy, still holding him by the shoulders, spoke.

“Nico?” Percy said, with a different voice. It was a much deeper voice, yet somewhat musical.

Nico looked up.

“You’re not Percy,” he said to the slightly older black guy that was suddenly in front of him instead of Percy. The _tall and_ _gorgeous_ slightly older black guy was wearing nothing but Percy’s swimming trunks. As soon as he thought how weird that was, the guy was suddenly wearing the camp’s orange t-shirt and jeans.

“No,” the tall and gorgeous slightly older black guy with the one-million-dracma smile said. “I’m not.”

“I don’t know you yet,” Nico found himself saying. “Alan, what’s happening?”

“Your second go’s going about as well as the first,” Alan said. “You were thinking of Percy, so I used him as the link and tried to find a positive place or experience where…”

“What?” Nico said, annoyed and confused. _How on Olympus had that been a positive place or experience?_

“I’ve been really, really trying not to… pry as I promised, but I told you: I could guide you more easily if—"

“What?”

Alan sighed.

“That’s it,” he said with new determination. “Pulling the plug. Sorry, this is going to be unpleasant.”

It was.

Nico remembered some Athena kids deep in a very typical-Athena-kids discussion on black holes and, particularly, remembered one of the terms that kept coming up: spaghettification.

He now figured he could contribute a thing or two to that conversation. Namely, how it must feel. Well, if he ever stopped screaming. He screamed and screamed the whole way out of wherever in Hades he’d been, with his whole life literally flashing before him.

It stopped as suddenly as it began.

He was cold and in darkness. He breathed dusty and stale air. He didn’t feel any pain, yet he couldn’t stand up. His movements were restricted by the barriers seemingly all around him. He pushed the one in front of him, but it wouldn’t budge. He felt around for some sort of door or lock or _some way out_ of that small, small, pitch dark space. His breathing became shallow and fast. He felt the walls closing in and the air beginning to run out. His body began to sweat and shake. He could feel the bile building up to his throat already and his world began to spin.

_No, no, no, no…_

His fists hit the cold wall in front of him over and over with desperation. He tried to stand up once again and he hit his head, making his nausea even worse.

He opened his eyes.

“What the hell?”

Once his vision adjusted to the sudden change of lighting, he could see a skinny, sick-looking face returning his gaze.

A mirror. He looked above, another mirror. The surface below, the walls around him, they were all mirrors. A room made of mirrors.

No, it was a box, a cage, a space narrowly big enough for him to sit with his legs against his chest or being curled up in a ball on the floor. The light came from the corners where the angles of the mirrors met; cold, white, and fluorescent light that only made him look paler and sicker. He saw himself reflected millions of times all around him, along with countless balls of light. It could’ve been beautiful if it hadn’t been so horrifying.

He curled up in a ball. The world kept spinning. It was like floating in space, in mad and endless space. He threw up all the contents of his empty stomach. He closed his eyes and the spinning ceased but he didn’t feel any better. Instead of nausea, the feeling of panic seized him. The walls were closing in again, threatening to crush him. The air was running out. He was back in the Labyrinth, back in Tartarus, back in the stupid fucking jar.

No wonder his delusions had…

No, not delusions…

Tears streamed down his face. Choosing the most bearable torture, he opened his stinging eyes. The pitiful image of him in a ball multiplied all around him infinite times. Little by little, the world set in place, his shaking stopped, and his breathing evened. He sighed in relief, although his head began to ache.

“Nico?” he heard.

He surveyed his surroundings. He was alone with his one billion reflections.

“Hello?” he called.

No answer.

“Hello? Is there someone out there?” he called, louder this time. “Help!”

No answer.

He must have imagined it, he thought. He pressed his head against the cold mirror floor. His headache relented a little. Escape should be his number one priority, and he knew that, but couldn’t bring himself to care enough.

He quickly deemed shadow travel impossible. There were no big enough shadows in there and, even if he tried, he guessed he would just end up trapped and lost in the infinite reflections of it. With growing resignation, he felt his pockets looking for pomegranate seeds but of course he had none; the guys with the guns must have taken them.

He blinked. This whole missing-memories business was getting old. All the same, he looked down to his hands, away from the reflections and too scared of the darkness that would swallow him if he closed his eyes. He was trying to remember…

The first thing to come up was that his attackers hadn’t been particularly skilled or even that many. Certainly, him and Reyna would’ve beaten those guys in two seconds. Sure, the enemy had had the element of surprise on their favor, but still, Nico and his two companions were trained demigods. It was embarrassing. And, this hit Nico rather hard, it had happened on his first official quest. He was tempted to add kind-of to the descriptor but that’s what it was, an official quest led by him. 

His two companions… He lifted his head. Where were the others? He’d been so busy wallowing. Were they in places like this one? Were they even alive? The voice from earlier had sounded familiar…

“Alan?” he called.

That noise from earlier—the tapping on the jar—came to him, not as a sound but… a feeling.

“Nico?” he heard a voice coming from afar. No, not afar, not exactly… but that had to be Alan’s voice…

“Where are you?” he asked, raising his voice.

“Can’t… Ugh… Reach… Could you…?”

Alan’s voice came as if through a radio with bad reception. Were there speakers in the box? He started to search.

“Not speakers… You gotta…. Think… Think it… Your head…”

What was he talking about? And how did he know what he had thou—oh…

Nico shivered slightly. The voice was coming from inside his own head. Had he…?

“You haven’t gone insane,” Alan said, with the sound of his voice now quite clear, and quite clearly inside Nico’s head. Then he heard... no, he _felt_ an exasperated sigh. Nico winced. It was weird.

It was also the second time this had happened.

“That’s better,” Alan said. “You remember now? I sensed you were thinking of us.”

Empathy-telepathy-thingy, as Alan had called it… Nico remembered now.

Not only was he trapped in a tiny mirror box, but he had a person in his head, privy to all his thought and emotions. Had this quest been especially designed to punish him? Test him? Play with him? He knew how the gods were but, surely, they couldn’t be this cruel or twisted. This was nothing but his typical rotten luck.

“I’m sorry,” Alan said.

Nico accepted the apology but then wished that Alan didn’t do that.

“Do what?” Alan asked.

Nico sighed.

“I’m not… Look, I’m not manipulating your emotions. I can’t do that, all right?” Alan said. “I’m not mentally charmspeaking you or anything like that. And even if I could I wouldn’t. Whatever you feel is because you’re actually feeling it.”

Yes, they had gone over this already. Alan had been a little pissed that Nico had felt… manipulated.

“You know I wouldn’t,” Alan protested.

Nico knew. He tried to close his eyes to think or shut Alan out for a second or _something_ , but the claustrophobic sensation returned at once. He opened them almost instantly.

“Are you alright?”

Nico let out a low growl and was hit by a wave of annoyance. He thought Alan would say something but then silence reigned. No more emotions were shot his way either.

So they were going to repeat this on every attempt, huh.

“Look,” Alan said after a couple of minutes, and Nico felt the other’s determination washing over him. He stiffened. “Look, we need to work together if we want to get out of this and we can’t do that if we’re at each other’s throats or you shut me out completely.”

Nico agreed mentally.

“Right, so… let’s sort this out, alright?”

Sort this out?

“Yeah, what’s bothering you exactly? I tried not to ask much the first time, but…”

Nico didn’t have time for this therapy bullshit; he needed to get out of there.

“I thought you had given up on that,” Alan said, cutting. “Just… tell me what’s bothering you right now in this moment.”

You, for starters, Nico thought. He adjusted himself to a sitting position with his knees in front of his chin. He raised his hand to his head and wondered if his headache had anything to do with being psychically invaded.

“This isn’t harmful in any way. You’re not going to develop a tumor or anything,” Alan said, his annoyance receding a little. “I get that you don’t want me in your head, but this is our only way of communication for now. I’m sorry if it bothers you that much…”

Nico knew he was right, and he also knew that he was telling the truth about being sorry, and that was the whole problem.

He waited for Alan’s reply, which didn’t come. He took that silence and hint of curiosity as a sign for him to go on. Yes, that was the problem. Alan was shooting all these genuine and unrestrained emotions at him. Making Nico know for certain when he was being honest and Nico having no other option but to believe him or saying sorry and really meaning it and then Nico _had_ to forgive him.

“That’s mad,” Alan said. “That’s not—” 

It felt like being manipulated, he thought loudly, drowning out Alan’s protests. He was used to distrust practically everyone, and then here it was this guy just… not allowing him to do that. It felt like having something taken away, something that Nico had relied on for a long time now. Do not trust anyone; do not believe in promises... He stopped himself before actually spilling out his life story, which might have been futile after all. Hadn’t Alan seen all that he had just, what? Dreamed?

“I didn’t,” Alan said. “Bits and pieces. Only, kind of trying to steer you, like you asked.”

Right, right… Nico felt a bit calmer. A mental smile from Alan.

“I thought I was being fair,” Alan said. “If I knew all of your feelings, thoughts and emotions, it was only fair for you to know mine, no? Anyway, you don’t _have_ to do anything. I can say sorry and you can tell me to fuck off. That’s completely fine.”

But Nico didn’t want him to fuck off. He groaned in frustration; he couldn’t believe how hard this was to process.

“And I can’t believe I had a crush on you, you gorgeous ball of issues.”

Wait, what?

Complete silence besides his own breathing. Complete lack of feelings besides his own confused ones. Was he being serious?

“See? I left you wondering like you wanted.”

Now he could fuck off.

“I guess I can’t be surprised,” Alan went on, his tone seemed bitter, but Nico wasn’t picking up anything else. “This always happens, even now that I have this thing more or less under control. I still can’t seize situations or people correctly. Piper just told me to keep practicing. And that I should stop whining since I didn’t have it that hard.”

That did sound like Piper.

“She was right, of course. Like, I can’t imagine having charmspeak and wondering if people are agreeing with me because I made excellent points or because I’m charmspeaking subconsciously or something. When is it even right to use it? I can’t imagine how nasty people were to her, maybe thinking she was twisting their thoughts. I can’t picture having to deal with that… Or dealing with being the son of Hades for that matter…”

Nico looked up at that.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how people treat you,” Alan said, and Nico could feel him restraining himself from giving away how indignant that made him. “I mean, it’s gotten better lately, with you being a hero and all that but still...”

It comes and goes, Nico agreed.

“That’s precisely it, isn’t it?” Alan said, giving up on trying to contain his emotions, which washed over Nico again. “It’s always about your latest deed or your latest fuck-up. No one ever sees the whole picture…”

Nico was about to agree with him when he heard something.

“What was that?” Alan had heard it too.

It sounded like someone was dragging something heavy on the floor. Nico could feel the vibrations on the base of his prison. He put his ear against the mirror to his right side, listening intently. He didn’t pick up much else, except for what he believed to be the crackling of an electricity discharge, then some faint footsteps and a closing door, and nothing after that.

“It was one of them,” Alan informed him suddenly, making Nico jump out of his skin. “One of our captors, I heard him think of a Mr H. but I don’t—”

Something heavy fell outside.

“We should focus on our daring escape now,” Alan continued. “Wanna try again?” A light breeze of doubt coming from Alan passed Nico by.

Nico agreed, and sighed. Why had he brought that up earlier? He’d been reading about shadow travel lately, about what to do when there were no shadows.

“We can try something else.”

No, no, it was probably the only way out. He just needed to… focus.

“I don’t think it’s solely about that. I told you, you said you needed some sort of tether or visual or guide still, right? Let me be it.”

Nico weighed his options. On one hand: having someone else relive with him private moments and emotions? A nightmare but with a higher chance of success. And on the other: actual nightmares he couldn’t control.

In retrospect, he’d been an idiot not saying yes after the first time. He nodded at nothing, feeling a bit stupid.

“Got it,” Alan’s voice was already settling in on Nico’s head as basically a part of it, a feature. Nico shuddered a bit but didn’t change his mind. “You still need to, like, find me. The last time you saw me should work. Hopefully now your memories won’t get messed up.”

Hopefully.

“Take us somewhere nice,” Alan said.

Nice…

Nico, not without some hesitation, closed his eyes.

Breathe in. He let the darkness within become his whole world. Breathe out. Darkness would be his ticket out of this mess. Breathe in. When there are no shadows, close your eyes, instant darkness… Breathe out. Go deep into it... Breathe in. And then use it get out…

The last time he remembered feeling content, safe, at peace…

_Oh, no._

He “opened” his eyes.

He was in bed. A ton of blankets on top of his body, keeping him warm and safe from the snowstorm raging outside the small apartment. An old TV was on in front of the bed. The lights were low.

It was then that he heard Jason yawning to his right.

He now could also feel Jason’s arm around his shoulders. God, he could even smell him, in all his… Jason-ness… the distinctive whiff of ozone, body spray and junk food. In any other person that would’ve been repellant but… He turned to see him. There he was, positively electric blue eyes half-closed, tired expression on his handsome lightly bearded face, blond messy head.

“What’s up?” Jason asked, an easy smile on his lips.

“Nothing, I’m just…”

Staring at my… boyfriend?

Jason waited a second, smiled again and then his attention was back at the TV.

It was strange to be back here, fully aware this time that he wasn’t really here but experiencing everything so vividly again.

He—or rather the he in the memory—cozied up to Jason a bit more. Nico could see the love and a bit of insecurity in Jason’s eyes now.

Back then, he’d thought it was pity. Poor outcast runt is all alone, Nico’s head had provided in a cruel parody of Jason’s voice, better fuck him to reach my hero quota of the year.

It had been unfair. It had been what ultimately broke them apart, in Nico’s opinion. Sure, Jason had only been curious and himself had been… lonely and willing to hold on to any bit of connection with anyone. Not a healthy place to start but, could they have…?

He shook his head. They were friends now. Friends.

He focused on the TV in front of them. Then, something new happened, something that wasn’t part of the memory: Nico took the remote, pointed it at the TV and began channel surfing. Jason did not seem to notice.

At first, he only got static on every channel. But the more he focused, more and ever clearer images managed to sneak in, until…

Zap!

He saw himself hanging upside down from the ceiling like a monkey, his feet barely secured on a rusty beam.

Nico-in-the-screen looked down to the floor, several feet below where the many machines, sharp instruments and metal junk of Bunker Nine stood up menacingly, some moving their serrated edges and shiny blades at dizzying speeds, working away. Nico looked back to the task at hand.

He let go of one foot to reach better for the loose cables that were the focus of his concentration. One of his hands took hold of a lower beam. Finally, after a couple of sweaty and uncomfortable minutes, he reached them and firmly connected them where they belonged. It was then that his hand slipped, and he started to fall. His face was a mere inch away from the circular blade of a circular sawblade going off when he felt himself being lifted up in the air by the shoulders.

“Buford,” Nico said, relief in his voice, the audio still with some static-y sound to it. “Thanks.”

He got the squeak of a drawer opening and closing in response.

The flying table deposited him on top of a tall, precarious stack of wooden boxes not much safer than where he was. Nico cleaned the sweat of his face with his raggedy shirt. He glanced around and spotted a suitable chain. He took off his belt and jumped towards it. Once he reached it, he threw his belt over it and used it as a zip-line until he was low enough to jump to a deadly instrument-free section of the floor.

“That you, Di Angelo?” a voice said.

“Yes,” he replied. “Does it work now?” he asked, walking towards the source of the voice. The camera on him at all times.

“Yeah,“ Leo said, without looking up from whatever he was working on, “just in time for the repeat of America’s Next Top Model.”

Nico, the “real” one, not the one in the TV, thought about how, before, he would‘ve stayed far away from Leo Valdez, away from the constant jokes at his expense and away from his endless blabbering that reminded him so much of Percy—although Leo’s humor was even more childish and immature than Percy’s, if such a thing was possible. Now, however, Leo seemed way too moody to crack many jokes and too busy to chat Nico’s ear off. Most of the time he didn’t even notice he was there, unless he needed something done that would separate him more than three seconds from his projects.

TV Nico took one of the many bags of potato chips lying around. Leo paid him no attention; he seemed too absorbed in his work and the show. Nico didn’t seem to mind at all, a few near-death experiences were a fair price for some relative peace and quiet.

Nico didn’t like people much most of the time, and Camp Half-Blood was full of a special kind of people who got on his nerves. There was the too cheerful sort like the Apollo, Aphrodite and Hermes kids. The too aggressive Ares’ cabin and the constant discussions in Athena’s made him lose patience. Hypnos cabin was quiet but being the only one awake in the place made him anxious, the dead were more active than that lot. So, in the end, his and Leo’s glooms were a perfect match.

If he stuck around as long as he did instead of simply leaving for the Underworld or wherever else was because of Hazel, who insisted on him being close to her at New Rome. The place was even less inviting for Nico, with people constantly flinching at the sight of him and doing that sign with their hands to ward off evil behind his back. At least in Camp Half-Blood they had grown somewhat accustomed to him and, of course, there was the Bridge any time he wanted to visit his sister.

And then there was Jason. He peered back at him, still unaware any of it was happening. 

Jason, who was still constantly seeking him out. Jason, who insisted on practicing sword fighting every day. Jason, whose constant pleas for Nico to integrate with the rest of the camp Nico just couldn’t flat out refuse. Jason, who was Nico’s ex-kind-of-boyfriend.

Those few months after Piper left to join the Hunters of Artemis, and Jason and he had hung out a lot, were among his happiest memories, along with that first, quick, desperate kiss in Hades cabin after a particularly rough day for both. Jason’s panicked expression in that moment filled Nico with dread, thinking he would run away. When he didn’t, Nico kissed had him again, and Jason had kissed back.

It all had gone… in-some-direction-hill from there.

Real Nico was fascinated by seeing this new perspective on things. He knew he needed to act fast, but he couldn’t stop watching this replay of this life.

“I can’t work like this!” Leo said, his hands up in the air, his hair messier than usual.

“What? Did your fave lose?” Nico asked with more concern in his voice than he wanted to let on.

“No, it’s my tools! They keep disappearing!”

“Can’t you just magic them out of your tool belt?” he pointed out.

“These are very specialized tools, Di Angelo. As awesome as my belt is, it has its limits.”

Nico sighed and looked around.

“Want me to help you look?” Nico asked.

“Nah, Buford can do that,” Leo replied, much calmer now. “He can track them anywhere if they’re near. They all have this tracking chip that— “

“Yeah, I believe you,” Nico said, waving him off.

Leo looked a bit put off at that but let it go with a shrug. What he did not let go, however, was that as it turned out, Buford did not find Leo’s tools.

“You must still be broken,” Leo said to the table, which jumped violently in protest. “Okay, then why can’t you find them?” he asked. Buford moved backwards and forwards. “What do you mean they’re not here? I only put them aside next to me for a sec!”

Nico kept staring at the continued exchange between Leo and the table with a mix of fascination and amusement. When Buford appeared as if it was about to kick Leo in the head, Nico let out a laugh.

“Now that’s a sound one does not hear every day,” said a voice behind him.

Nico froze, his laughter ceasing at once.

An all too familiar heavy hand fell on his right shoulder followed by a strong squeeze.

“Jason…” Nico said, almost under his breath.

“Hi,” Jason said, his hand still on Nico’s shoulder. “What’s the fight about now?” he asked nodding towards Leo and Buford with a smirk.

“The usual, I guess,” Nico replied, shrugging pointedly.

Jason’s hand slid off instantly. By the time Nico actually looked at him, Jason was at least a meter away, a bit of guilt etched on his face. Nico regretted the previous gesture. He tried to smile at Jason but his facial muscles seemed frozen in place resulting in more of a grimace than a smile. Jason was perplexed. Nico looked away.

“Don’t give me that, you piece of—!”

“Leo!” Jason said.

“I was gonna say furniture!” Leo said. “Oh. Hi, man, didn’t see you there.”

The two of them began to talk animatedly and Nico was grateful for the distraction. He didn’t know how to act around Jason sometimes. Although most of the time any sort of romantic tension between them seemed to have vanished and replaced by friendliness, sometimes Jason would be a bit too friendly. How much of it was Jason’s natural demeanor and how much it was lingering attraction or whatever, Nico didn’t know exactly.

“Are you coming?”

“Huh?” Nico replied.

“The camp meeting,” Jason said. “Come on.”

Real Nico pressed the channel button. Zap!

The screen now showed the Camp’s Rec Room, with demigods, Nico among them, sitting around Mr. D’s ping-pong table.

It had turned out that not only Leo’s tools were missing, but a lot of equipment and weaponry as well. A redheaded Ares kid complained loudly about how even their private stash of swords, Celestial bronze bullets and spears had disappeared, but had been promptly silenced by Chiron’s inquiring look.

“Someone could be making sure we’re unarmed before launching an attack,” suggested a kid next to the redhead.

“It’s a possibility,” Chiron conceded. “But who could have the power to infiltrate the Camp and steal all that equipment?”

“Doesn’t matter,” said another Ares kid. “We need to recover those.”

Real Nico kept changing the channel, which was working as more of a fast-forward.

“Where are you, Alan?” he said.

Zap!

“What about Nico?” Leo said from behind the group from Hephaestus cabin.

“I’m sorry?”

“He can go on the quest,” Leo said while standing up. “I mean, Festus is still on repairs and Hazel’s unavailable right now so he’s the next best thing, isn’t he?”

Zap!

“You think you can do it, man?” asked TV Jason. “Find all the stuff. We know your dad isn’t exactly Pluto but—”

Zap!

“…Hazel taught me some stuff...”

Zap!

That was the moment when he knew he had to go on the quest, real Nico thought. He had wanted to prove them wrong, and a quest was a perfect opportunity for getting away from them all, a perfect excuse to be away and mostly alone without people nagging him about it. His quest mates had seemed alright; Bronte’s no-nonsense attitude reminded him of Reyna, and Alan was an excellent fighter and, most importantly, the quiet type.

A tapping in the window of the apartment. No one outside but Jack Frost looking for noses to nip.

He was close.

Zap!

“I’ll do it,” TV Nico said finally, standing up and straightening himself, trying to puff out his small chest. He looked downright comical next to Jason even though on the last few months he’d experimented a growth sprout. “I’ll go.”

Zap!

“Wait,” Alan said, making a time-off gesture. “Wasn’t Nico on the quest to defeat Gaea? I thought the gods had promised no more quests for them.”

“Ah, but that only applied to The Seven, my friend,” Leo replied with a self-satisfied grin. “You know: the elite, the big guns, the su—”

“Yeah, alright,” Bronte interrupted. “We get it, Valdez.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Alan persisted. “It was Nico and Reyna who brought the Athena Parthenos all on their own to Camp. He guided them to the House of Hades and all that. He went through Tartarus _alone_ , for Gods’ sake.”

Nico had boggled at the outburst. He didn’t know Alan all that well and there he had been sticking up for him. He hadn’t even been aware that anyone else besides the seven and Reyna knew about the whole Tartarus thing. He remembered feeling tense.

“It isn’t fair, true,” TV Jason said. “But it is what it is and, ultimately, it’s Nico’s call.”

“Yeah, and he seems pretty adamant about it by the way he’s clinching his fists,” Leo said.

With Bronte carrying all the medical stuff and food and Alan all the extra weaponry they could salvage; Nico had felt basically like a glorified metal detector that had the inconvenience of needing to be fed. As such, he’d only carried his trusty Stygian Iron sword, some extra food supplies and, shivering at the thought, a few pomegranate seeds.

Nico let the rest of the scenes play, not paying much attention to it until:

“You ready, then?” TV Jason asked.

He was at the entrance of Hades cabin, all sweaty and gorgeous with the sun shining behind him. Both Nicos closed their eyes and shook their heads. Sometimes Jason seemed completely unaware of the effect he had—Nico wondered if some ancestor of Jason had been a descendant of Venus, preferable to think that than it was all still his silly little crush’s influence—and sometimes, just sometimes, he seemed to use that effect to its fullest potential. Piper’s influence, no doubt, Nico thought uncharitably.

“Almost, yeah,” TV Nico replied embarrassingly late to real Nico’s liking.

“So… a quest, huh?” Jason said, entering the cabin.

“We didn’t even get a prophecy so not really…”

“Technicalities,” Jason said, brushing it off with a shrug and sitting on Nico’s bed. “A quest is a quest. I kinda wish I could go.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Nico replied.

“I just… kinda miss it, all right?” Jason continued. “I see all these kids I train go on adventures and stuff and I—…”

“Yeah, well, you know how it is,” Nico said. “Gotta make way for the new generation, old man. Besides, we wouldn’t want you breaking your bones or missing an arm for being too slow or...”

“Hey!”

Nico laughed and Jason quickly followed.

“But seriously, I would like to be there for you,” Jason said, leaning closer.

TV Nico tensed. He’d been so close to saying “me too,” real Nico remembered. He then had thought about it and no, he didn’t want that. He wanted Jason’s friendship, and Jason’s behavior and tone were at odds with that.

“Stop,” TV Nico said.

“What?” TV Jason looked comically perplexed from this perspective. It was cute.

“This. Stop this,” Nico said. “Whatever this is.”

“I don’t—”

“You said you wanted to be friends so let’s be friends. I want to be your friend,” Nico said in one breath. “Your friend, just that.”

A smile had been the last thing Nico expected from Jason but that’s what happened.

“What?” Perplexity looked more stupid than cute on himself, real Nico tought.

“You said the f-word,” Jason replied, still smiling. “We’re friends, then.”

“Y-Yeah…” Nico said, and Jason beamed at him even more intensely. “Of course.”

A hug had been pretty much the next thing Nico had expected from Jason and this time that’s what happened.

Jason had tried to pull apart quickly, muttering apologies, Nico had pulled him closer prompting a questioning noise from Jason.

“It’s alright,” Nico said. “I just thought you wanted… I thought… Never mind, I suck at reading these situations, clearly.”

“Come on, then,” Jason said, once the hug was finished. “They’re waiting.”

“Looks like a step up. Very mature, better communication,” the Jason lying next to the real him said. Nico jumped a bit. “This is really nice and all but… I think I prefer us as friends.”

“How—”

“Not sure,” “real” Jason said. “Maybe you’re just talking to yourself,” he shrugged and smiled. He then redirected his attention back to the screen. “Fast-forward to the action-y bits, will you? You know they’re me favorites.”

Nico shook his head and did as he asked.

Zap!

Alan, Bronte and him were right outside the magical boundaries of Camp.

Their goodbye hadn’t a very warm or particularly exciting one. As Nico had pointed out to Jason, there was actually no prophecy and, as everyone had noticed, no immediate threat either. There was no Roman army marching towards them, nor a primordial god waking up from its ancient slumber, nor a dwindling supply of pizza that would endanger the Camp. As such, only Chiron and Jason had been there to see them off. Nico had actually preferred it that way. He had had enough in his mind to add the pressure of socializing with the rest of the demigods. Their only parting gift had been a special bag from Hermes cabin, much bigger on the inside and always lightweight.

They walked down the hill, with Nico trailing behind, lost in his thoughts. There had been thoughts of Hazel, of how she hadn’t contacted him yet, he’d been dreading her inevitable Iris message. She liked to make a show out of how much she knew he could handle himself, but the constant messages the minute something seemed to be remotely amiss indicated otherwise.

“Where to then?” asked Bronte, turning quickly around to face Nico.

“Huh?” he replied stupidly.

“You’re very unkind to yourself,” real Jason said, giving him a playful pinch on the cheek.

“Shut it,” real Nico said at the same time Bronte asked: “Where do we go? You’re kind of our guide.”

“Right, sorry.”

Bronte regarded him with impatience. Alan was still looking up the hill, shuffling a bit on the spot. Nico had never seen him nervous like that.

“First time out?” he asked to Alan.

“No,” he replied quickly in that deep, musical voice of his. “Only wondering if Aphrodite’s cabin will be okay… I was just ele—“

“They’ll manage,” Bronte interjected with a shrug. “Manicures can’t be _that_ hard.”

Alan said nothing, but Nico could tell the comment had bothered him by the way his nostrils had flared, and his hands tensed holding the strips of his backpack, making his biceps bulge up. It was effectively intimidating, but Bronte didn’t seem fazed by it.

“Relax, pretty boy,” she said. “’Twas but a joke. Aphroditians are badass.”

Alan glared at her some more and finally sighed and calmed himself, apparently following her advice.

“Didn’t know you could joke,” Nico had heard him say under his breath.

“Enough antagonizing,” Nico said before Bronte could react, finally tearing his eyes away from Alan, or rather, Alan’s arms. “You’re gonna get on my nerves and I won’t be able to find our stuff. I need to concentrate.”

Bronte shrugged. Alan nodded firmly. Nico took a deep breath. He had tried to empty his mind of everything but what Hazel taught him some time ago. He walked towards a big tree until he was under its thick shadow, the others followed him.

“You’re gonna need to hold on to me,” he told them. “Have you shadow traveled before?”

“No,” Bronte said at the time she let her heavy hand fall on Nico’s shoulder. “Should be fun.”

“Alan?”

“What? Oh, no, I haven’t,” he said and bit his lip.

“Hold on to me,” Nico said and Alan did so, albeit with some reluctance. “You’ll be all right.”

“I know,” he said with another firm nod.

“Bit tighter than that,” Nico said. “We don’t want you ending up on China or something.”

Once Nico was satisfied with Alan’s grip on him, he took another deep breath. His skin was already tingling, and he felt as if the gravity had intensified or as if the ground was ready to swallow him whole, which was more or less what was going to happen. He didn’t have a destination per se but he kept on with the deep breathing, the scent of rust, earth and all sorts of metals around him getting stronger and stronger. He didn’t feel a pull like Hazel until he was quite close to his objective. He also didn’t know exactly where he was going to end up, or what he was going to end up actually finding.

“Oh,” he heard Alan say beside him.

They were already sinking slowly into the shadow. It was curious how everything around them seemed to be getting taller. After a minute or so, darkness finally surrounded them. He was an expert on finding his way through the shadows of the world, granted he knew where he was going. He focused on the familiar smell and _feel_ of Celestial bronze, trying to avoid Camp Half-Blood’s remaining equipment to distract him. He could still feel Alan and Bronte at his side, so he went on.

It wasn’t as hard as he had expected it to be. At least it was much easier than finding a pin buried on the ground as Hazel had had him do all that time ago. Once he had discarded the feel of Camp Half-Blood’s weapons and armor, he was immediately struck by the presence, not that far away, of a huge stash of Celestial bronze, and even some Imperial gold. He hoped they didn’t end up on Camp Jupiter.

He let the darkness guide them as if they were leaves on the wind or, more accurately, as if he was manning a glider through the sky. He wondered if that was how Jason felt when he flew with the winds at his command. Currents and whirlpools of even darker darkness surrounded them, and Nico let himself and the others being dragged by exactly the right ones.

As he got closer to his destination, he noticed how besides bronze and gold, there was metal ahead that he had never felt, smelt or seen before. Nico wasn’t sure if he should go on without more information but, before he could actually make a decision, they had arrived at their destination.

“We’re here,” he said checking their surroundings, his eyes hurting because of the sudden light of the sun on them.

“That was quick,” Bronte commented dropping her hand off Nico’s shoulder. She had been holding him a little too hard. That was going to leave a bruise, Nico thought.

“Yeah,” Alan said in almost a whisper, also looking around.

“Normally it takes me only a couple of seconds to—“

Nico had tried to give a step forward, but Alan’s hand had been still firmly gripping his shoulder and had made him stumble backwards.

“Sorry!” Alan said immediately. “Distracted.”

“It’s okay,” Nico said with a small, hopefully reassuring smile. Alan smiled back. The gesture illuminated his face a lot, Nico noticed, all traces of the angry, scowling boy were gone.

Bronte made a strange noise behind them.

“What?” Alan said, his expression darkening again.

“Nothing, I just finally got something. Never mind. Let’s go.”

The place where Nico had taken them looked like an industrial area on the outsides of… some city, Nico couldn’t tell which one. Rows and rows of warehouses lined up to their right, with factories to their left. It was quite a strange place for a bunch of Celestial bronze to be lying around. The grass under their feet was completely dead and there was trash littered all over it. The warehouse—which was exercising a strange pull on Nico—was completely vandalized. Its walls were full of graffiti that covered almost completely the name of whatever company owned it, only an H and an S showed somewhat clearly. All the windows at the top of the structure were broken, most likely by thrown rocks.

Behind him, Alan had his sword already out, as did Bronte. Nico chided himself and produced his Stygian Iron sword. He hadn’t done this in a while. They were at one of the side doors, which was open. Nico could see only darkness beyond; the only certainty was the pull he felt from whatever was inside.

“Ready?” he asked in a whisper. He threw a quick glance back at his quest mates.

They nodded.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Here it comes,” real Jason said, taking the remote form Nico’s hands.

“Hey!”

“You’re losing valuable time,” Jason said. “Aren’t you trapped in like a mirror box or something? Your quest mates could be in danger. You can examine how big your mutual crush with this Alan guy is later.”

“What? I’m not—I don’t have—”

“Dude.”

Nico shut up. When Jason hits you with a dude…

Zap! Zap! Zap!

Quick snapshots of events with each button press:

A loud alarm blaring the instant they crossed the entrance to the warehouse. Shouting, flashing red lights and alarm noises surrounding them.

Them running along a narrow corridor of shelves and shelves filled with their weaponry, the shouting and alarm noises getting louder and louder.

The corridor ended in an ample, empty room. The alarm stopped at once, as did the flashing lights.

They were in penumbra, the only light coming from the broken windows above.

Darkness. The noise of a door shutting down.

“Crap,” Bronte said, verbalizing everyone’s thoughts.

A projectile of some sort came directly towards Nico, buzzing through the air. Alan jumped to his side and deflected it with his sword before Nico could even react. He made up for it when another one came towards a distracted Alan who was making sure Nico was all right. He took Alan and jumped to the side, avoiding getting hit.

“There it is,” Jason said, satisfied, giving the remote back to Nico.

They were on their feet in an instant, ready to keep fighting. Nico had been right, Alan was an excellent fighter. His style actually reminded him of Jason, which proved to be less distracting than Nico had thought. The both of them managed to deflect the arrows, spears and other projectiles being thrown at them. Meanwhile, Bronte dodged everything they were throwing at her with more grace than Nico had ever seen on anyone else.

“Hey!” she said when they were close to her. “I think I saw an exit. Just follow me, we’re gonna have to get past some of them though.”

Nico and Alan nodded and followed her. It was then that Nico got his first good look at his attackers. They were a couple of dozen or so middle-aged men and women in factory workers clothes. A couple of dozen or so middle-aged people who quickly realized Bronte’s plan and ran to guard the exit, some of them talking on walkie-talkies. Alan, now in front of the group, punched and round kicked his way through all of them, clearing a path.

The funny thing was, he saw Bronte and Alan both try to use their own weapons to no avail. Alan tried to hit someone with the hilt of his bronze sword, only for it to just phase through. Bronte, seeing this, had gone further beyond and actually tried to stab some of them, but without any success.

Mortals, Nico thought.

From another door to the side even more people emerged, these ones in what looked like security uniforms. One of them sent something flying towards Alan, who jumped impossibly high and avoided it. Had that been a…?

Nico didn’t have time to warn Alan, because the boomerang had returned flying to embed itself right between his shoulder blades. He screamed and fell. Bronte tripped over Alan’s body and went down as well. Nico had stopped just in time.

A spear came flying from the front and it landed on Bronte’s arm, her scream joining Alan’s.

“NO!” Nico shouted, running towards the attackers. He felt the ground rumble.

The floor exploded at the same time he hit one of his attackers with the hilt of his sword. Screams and dust filled the air. The alarm began to blare again, this time more urgently. All around Nico skeletons had emerged from the ground and were holding back anyone who tried to get close to him.

With that protection, Nico went back to check on Alan and Bronte, but it was then that he heard it. The sound of bullets assaulted his ears. Enemy reinforcements had arrived, and his skeleton army was going down almost as fast as it had appeared. He was helping Bronte up when he felt his leg getting hit with something. He stumbled down to the floor.

Nico looked at his leg, and as soon as he saw the blood, the searing burning pain made him cry out. The pain had drowned out everything else, his vision became blurry, and all he could hear was his blood throbbing in his ears. He tried to get up, this time it was Bronte helping him up. He leaned against her and it was then that he felt a blunt impact to the head, and everything went black.

Zap!

A closeup of Alan on the ground. The sound of boots approaching.

“Intense,” Jason said.

“Right?” Alan replied from the TV, opening his eyes. “Reliving it was kind of thrilling.”

Nico looked from one to the other, confused and a bit irritated.

Jason sat up in the bed.

“Good luck, Nico, my man,” he said, ruffling his hair. Nico didn’t protest. “Go kick those guys’ asses.”

“You heard the man,” Alan said from the screen, standing up and dusting himself off. The rest of the world inside the TV was frozen. He extended a hand towards the camera. “Come on, then.”

Still a little dubious and confused, Nico got up the bed, thankfully with his clothes on, and walked towards the old TV set. A final moment of hesitation and then he put his hand on the screen.

The world spun and changed yet again, but this time it wasn’t sudden and violent. The lights in the apartment dimmed slowly until all that was left was the screen, hanging in the darkness. The floor vanished under Nico’s feet, leaving him floating along with the screen. Nico looked around. Out of the black, small and bright dots like stars were starting to appear. It was the second time he felt like he was in outer space.

Some of the lights got closer and closer, increasing in size, and then revealing themselves to also be TV screens. All were playing different scenes from his life. No sound was coming from any of them.

He saw Bianca on one of the screens and reached out instinctively. The screen got closer faster and much, much bigger until it revealed itself to be as tall as him. He stepped into it once it was next to him.

He was standing right in the middle of the games room of the Lotus Hotel and Casino.

“Whoa,” said Alan next to him, looking awestruck at the enormous, noisy place filled with games and people from all different periods of time.

Nico paid him little attention. His focus was on trying to find—there they were…

“Don’t cheat this time!” said a small boy. He couldn’t be older than eleven. 

“Am not!” said the older girl he was playing air hockey with.

Nico walked closer and… stared… and stared…

“I think like this game!” young Nico said, joyous. “I’m winning!”

His sister blew a raspberry at him.

A hand was on Nico’s shoulder, Alan’s hand. He did not swat it away. Noticing this, Alan squeezed slightly. Nico sighed. Something was stuck in his throat, attempting to get out.

“I think about this time so much,” Nico said, no longer able to hold it back. “Just… look at them.”

Alan did.

“After this, there’s only… darkness and terror and heartbreak,” Nico continued, still staring at Bianca and himself playing without a care in the world. “You saw it. Or sense it or whatever... Don’t say you didn’t. You must’ve got _some_ of it.”

Alan didn’t deny it.

“And before… Well, I can’t fucking remember much of it, can I?” Nico said bitterly. “River Lethe took care of that. Good old dad… So, this just feels like the only bright spot. We should’ve stayed trapped here. I think about it all the time. Would that have been so bad?”

It was both a genuine and a rhetorical question.

He felt lighter. They stared at the children some more.

“No,” Alan said, breaking the silence. “Not at all.”

Nico had expected a speech about letting go, living in the moment and about how there were people who needed him right now. It never came. Alan seemed to respect and know him well enough to realize that Nico knew all that already or that he eventually would reach that realization on his own.

“Come on, you’re the one who knows how to get out of here,” Alan said walking away from the kids. “And how to get back here whenever now.”

It all made perfect sense and yet… He stood there, tempted once again by the Lotus Hotel to stay forever. This time it was offering something much _more_ than food and games, something far more precious and important. Didn’t he deserve this one final blissful respite? If the pattern held, wasn’t it that which lay ahead only darkness? Why not just stay?

“Nico?” he heard Alan say. There was something in his voice, a hint of urgency and fear born out of genuinely _caring for him_ , being worried for him.

And then he too walked away from the Bianca and himself from long ago.

He guided Alan towards the exit.

Alan guided him through the rest of it.

They crossed a small living room. Percy’s birthday party after the whole Labyrinth ordeal. Nico practically inhaling a delicious blue cake. Percy’s mom talking to him and Nico replying enthusiastically. Percy smiling at the two of them.

Him victorious after the battle of Manhattan. The gods themselves and the Camp recognizing how crucial his help had been.

The Fields of Asphodel. Him leading Hazel out of the Underworld and into a second chance at a family for both of them.

Him with Percy after that debacle at the beach, actually talking, and starting to forgive and understand each other. There was still some road ahead, but Nico was optimistic for once.

Kissing Jason for the first time. Jason kissing back. This repeating several more times.

Leo and him getting back at Hermes cabin after a particularly annoying prank in a spectacular fashion, involving a tried-and-true skeleton army, tons of green Jell-O and ruined underpants.

Alan was showing him moments he could come back to anytime. And if the pattern held, similar bright moments also lay ahead. New, bright moments he could make happen. A roadmap of hope.

Nico was drifting in the endless void once again but, this time, no terror seized him, no awful memories came to trap him. He was the master of it all. He was in complete control. He was as deep within himself as it was possible and, for one shining moment, he was comfortable. It was really very peaceful in here. He could do anything, like using the darkness that enveloped him to escape a measly box made of mirrors.

He could feel Alan somewhere out here, in his innerscape.

“Hey,” Nico said.

No reply came, only a feeling of acknowledgment, and a warm smile in someone’s lips.

Nico smiled back. He drifted, following that warm presence, that tapping from outside, that memory of a hand on his shoulder, that now familiar feeling.

The feeling coalesced into a solid presence to his left. Alan was floating a few meters away.

He floated towards him.

He took Alan’s hand.

“Hey,” Alan said.

“Better make some room in there,” Nico said.

He shadow traveled with more ease than he had ever done before. The cacophony that usually accompanied the whole affair wasn’t there. He was going fast, but it wasn’t unpleasant at all. He didn’t feel as if his skin was peeling off. And, all the way, he used Alan’s presence, feelings and thoughts as a tether, as a way to find himself among the chaos.

“Whoa!” he heard Alan say, the real, physical Alan.

He was crouching in front of him.

“Hi,” Nico said, blinking rapidly, and breaking into a huge smile.

Alan’s smile was just as big.

Without warning, Nico grabbed him and pulled him into the shadow he’d came out of a moment ago.

A second later they were both of out Alan’s thankfully regular cage.

“Whoa,” Alan said again. Then immediately looked down at Nico’s leg. “They patched you up as well.”

“What? Oh,” Nico said. “More than well, I’d say…”

A loud noise from outside the room. They looked at each other, nodded and got to it.

The rest of it happened in pretty much an adrenaline-fueled blur for Nico. Procuring weapons had been a piece of cake since the place was practically littered with them, so soon they were both equipped with a sword and shield. They moved silently, with Nico leading the charge, through the place looking for both a way out and for Bronte. It appeared to be another warehouse, albeit a much bigger and more well-maintained one. All the while hearing growling and banging coming from the boxes and cages that lined the hallways and passages. It was quite the collection.

“Mortals did this?” Alan whispered.

“It seems so,” Nico replied, and then stopped, holding up his hand in a fist. Alan stopped as well.

“What?” Alan asked.

The sounds of a struggle behind the metal door at the end of the hallway were his answer.

Nico took the big metal door handle, looking back at Alan. Alan raised his shield and nodded.

Nico opened the door.

Bronte was in the middle of a spacious room, surrounded by a bunch of unconscious guys in tac gear. She looked exhausted but extremely pleased. Her sword and shield were at the ready too. She lowered them once she saw them.

“Been looking for your asses,” she said, relief now joining the other emotions on her face.

“How did—” Alan started to say.

“Come on,” Nico said, entering the room and avoiding stepping on any of the knocked-out… what? soldiers? agents? minions? There were no identifying symbols or tags on any of them. “You ok?” he asked Bronte.

“Duh,” she said. “This place is huge but I think I got them all,” she kicked the foot of the nearest guy.

“Are they d—?”

“No,” Nico said, before Bronte could even think to answer.

“Darts and sedative from the Camp’s infirmary,” Bronte added, holding up a couple of empty vials. “They’ll be out a while. The ones whose ass I kicked? A bit longer.”

“OK. Good. Let’s go then,” Alan proposed. “Let’s complete our quest.” The other two readily agreed.

Bronte opened the special bag and her and Nico set to gather all the stolen weaponry. Alan studied the nearby control panels and computers.

“Some of this stuff is not even from Camp,” Nico commented an hour later, when Bronte finally zipped up the bag. “I don’t know what it’s even made up of.”

It had filled almost up to the top, something for which later the Hermes kids had been really impressed by. Nico tried lifting it, and found he could do it with ease, as if it wasn’t full of at least a couple hundred swords, shields, spears and more.

“Sooo, it seems the monsters come smelling or sensing the Celestial bronze and all the other stuff, hoping to find a tasty vulnerable demigod or two and then these guys capture them,” Alan said, after having opened a file about protocol on something or other. “Not much on who’s running the show, though. Bunch of redacted stuff.”

It was a sophisticated operation, although by the looks of it, it had limited itself to low level monsters, no rules or measures on how to handle demigods or any other bigger threat.

“Anything else?” Nico asked him, now standing close behind his chair. He’d casually put a hand on his shoulder. Nico leaned in to read the screen.

“N-no,” he replied, his voice higher than usual. He cleared his throat. “Not really,” he said with more certainty, closing the files. “These guys should consider unionizing, by the looks of some of those spreadsheets.”

“Let’s go then,” Nico said, smiling. Alan smiled back. Bronte rolled her eyes.

“Just a second,” Alan said, going back to the control panels and flipping a couple of switches.

They saw how, one by one, the cages opened letting out all manners of monsters and creatures. A dozen of hellhounds immediately leaped into the nearest shadow, looking extremely freaked out for having been in a place they couldn’t easily escape for maybe the first time. Nico could sympathize. He beamed at Alan.

“All right, Monster Welfare Society, let’s go before any of those critters come in here,” Bronte said.

They huddled together and Nico shadow-travelled them out of there.

All those memories come rushing back to Nico, once he instinctively closed his eyes after having seen Jason on Heaphestus TV do the bravest and stupidest thing probably anyone on earth had ever done. He needs to get him and Percy the fuck out of Olympus before the gods nuke them, scramble their brains or turns them into koalas. He misses when Zeus actually does blast them both with a massive bolt of lightning.

No time to jump from shadow to shadow, he needs to get there _now_.

“Come on, di Angelo. Come on,” he whispers to himself, memories of how to do what he needs to do still flooding him. Someone next to him squeezes his arm encouragingly. He inhales deeply and simply disappears in the spot.

He opens his eyes. His head is already throbbing with pain because of the long distance. He immediately spots them.

“Hey!” he shouts.

Jason stops in his tracks, Percy collides with his back.

“Nico?” Jason asks.

Nico steps out of the shadows. His heart is hammering, his legs are shaking. He’s a moment away from collapsing but the gods are still coming.

“Come on, quick!” he says, extending his hand. “We need to get the hell out of here.”

Jason takes Percy’s and then Nico’s hand. The three run toward the shadows, and are swallowed by them.

Nico’s not sure if he can bring Percy and Jason along using innerscape shadow travel, he’s not even sure he can bring himself alone right now. His body wants to lie down right in the street, his mind screams for rest.

He runs instead.

He gets them in and out of shadows, hoping their pursuers above lose track of them. The sudden rain is heavy and completely furious. They’ve really done it this time, those two.

Jason seems to be in a state of shock and Percy looks like he’s about to be sick. Nico suspects his appearance right now perfectly matches theirs. Inside the shadows, the—no other word for them—routes are closing, changing, some even fighting him back. When he ends up a good fifty miles away from where he intended to take them, a little despair sets in. Hades is messing with them. A couple of jumps and he’ll have them delivered right into Tartarus.

They jump into a shadow and Nico immediately knows there’s no way out. Hades has trapped them.

It takes him less than a second to decide what to do. Percy and Jason never even notice the terrible danger they’re in. Nico closes his eyes again. A whole movie plays again in his head. This time he reaches the ending, which pushes him easily out of the darkness:

Alan’s face, looking back at him. They reached the foot of Half-Blood Hill.

Bronte had gone ahead. Nico however had stopped, lost in his thoughts. Insecurities and doubts he doesn’t quite remember now, but they were there, as real as anything. Alan had stopped too, possibly sensing this.

Nico expects a lecture, a worrying glance.

“You coming?” Alan asked instead, with his one-million-dracma smile.

Nico took a step back.

Alan’s smile did not falter. He extended his hand towards him.

“Race you to the top?” he said.

Nico blinks, and then, smiling back, low fives him.

“You are so going to lose.”

Alan took off up Half-Blood Hill and Nico sprinted after him.

For once, he didn’t look back.


End file.
